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When I was eight, I changed my name. Until then, I was called Johanna Louise, because my youthful parents, huge Bob Dylan fans, had named me after his mystical 1966 ballad, Visions of Johanna. In mid-70s south Manchester, sadly, the mysticism was somewhat lost. I hated explaining my name – “Joanne?” “Did you say Joanna?” – and thought it sounded clunky and earthy, when I longed to be ethereal and balletic. When I changed schools at nine, I asked if I could change my name too, and to my enormous surprise, my parents said yes. They were probably sick of explaining it, too. I named myself after an Aunt I adored, and burst upon the world as Felicity.

Back then, almost nobody had an unusual name. My school was full of Sarahs, Claires and Davids. Now, in the leafier suburbs, Phoenixes, Wrens, Honeys and Edens abound. This is partly because religious names are dying out – less than one in six children are christened now - and parents are more likely to name their child after a favourite song or actor, or to be inspired by celebrities who have led the trend for naming your baby with any combination of words that pleases you.

David and Victoria Beckham chose Harper Seven, Beyonce and Jay-Z went for Blue Ivy, the singer Ashlee Simpson has a Bronx Mowgli, while Frank Zappa infamously named his long-suffering children Diva Muffin and Moon Unit.

Jamie Oliver and wife Jools, already parents to Poppy Honey, Daisy Boo, Petal Blossom Rainbow and Buddy Bear, have gifted their newborn son with the name River Rocket. “We think it suits him” says Jamie, hopefully.

But despite this new-found freedom to celebrate individuality, naming a baby remains a fraught business. Last week, as the Office for National Statistics released its annual list of the nation’s most popular baby names - Amelia topped the girls’ list; Oliver, the boys’ - a survey by Mumsnet has found that nearly a fifth of parents would pick different names for their children if they had the chance again, with two per cent regretting it so much that they’d actually changed it. Although the most common cause of remorse was that a once-recherché name had become too, well, common, other parents cited problems with spelling and pronunciation - an issue which I myself can vouch for.

Some experts warn that in putting a premium on ‘creative’ names, we’re condemning our children to playground bullying, embarrassment, and even low self-esteem.

“Parents may give their children remarkable names in the hope that they will become remarkable adults,” says Naomi Cooper, a therapist at The Blue Tree Clinic. “An unusual name can give a child confidence. This is a positive factor for a child or adult who wants to stand out; say an actor, sportsperson or a musician. But those children or adults who aren’t what they would consider ‘successful’ could end up striving for perfection, a state which has been linked with mental health difficulties including eating disorders, obsessive compulsive disorder and body dysmorphia.”

Naming a child is a crucially important act which reflects and shapes both how you view yourself and how others view you, says psychotherapist Christophe Sauerwein.

Being shamed for your name, a key part of who you are, can be very damagingChristophe Sauerwein, psychotherapist

Very unusual names can, he says, make a child stand out for the wrong reasons. “I have a patient aged ten, named Otterly,” he says (spelling it out, in case I confuse it with Ottilie, which now features regularly in Telegraph birth announcements). “It’s a very unusual name and she’s bullied about it. As a parent, you can love a name, but come on, think twice. Is it embarrassing? Will she have a lifetime of explaining herself to everyone she meets?”

Clearly this isn’t a worry the Olivers have, perhaps, like their fellow celebs, assuming that fame acts as an embarrassment-insulation device – and that any school their children attend will already be full of pupils named Lark Snowball and Tofu Velveteen.

For ‘ordinary’ children, however, Christophe Sauerwein adds, “we can never control the cruelty of the playground, and being shamed for your name, a key part of who you are, can be very damaging.”

Hearing this alarmed me. My son, now 23, is called Wolfgang, and has been known all his life, as Wolfie or Wolf. I was just 22 when he was born, and determined not to saddle him with a ‘boring’ name. So we called him after a Polish great-uncle on my mother’s side, a name I thought was interesting, stylish, carried a hint of family tradition, and would always ensure people remembered him.

“Well, it does,” he says now. “I’ve mostly really liked my name, but at university, I’d meet people at parties, and they didn’t believe it was my real name. I’ve sometimes had to show them my cash-card to prove it.”

“A bit, but it wasn’t a flowery, silly name,” he says. “It just meant I could never get away with anything because all the teachers knew who I was from day one.”

I did give him an ordinary middle name, in case he wanted to change it. I’m relieved, in fact, that so far, he never has.

And while “flowery, silly names” are on the rise, it’s perhaps reassuring for future generations that the most popular baby names remain solid and familiar. The ONS top 10 lists Emily, Ella and Isabella alongside Jack, Harry, George and Jacob; all names that would be pleasantly familiar to the inhabitants of Downton Abbey.

But if you are wedded to a name that’s more Dulux Heritage, says Christophe Sauerwein, be mindful of giving a name that makes the child too unique.

“It has to come with love and emotional bonding and adequate parenting,” he says. “You must spell out your reasoning – ‘we love you and thought this was a good name for you. We don’t need you to be someone else, or live up to any legacy’.”

And if you’ve picked a name because you think it’s cool, or makes you look interesting, he says, reconsider. “A parent’s job is to validate the existence of their child,” he adds. “It should never be about making themselves look good at the child’s expense.”